The Weaving of Wells (Osric's Wand, Book Four) (16 page)

“Thenar,” Kablis called out clearly, his voice echoing off the chamber walls, “I regret to be defying ye once again, but ye be too blinded by yer rage to be deciding this point for the future of the clan. I be declaring a gathering. Will ye be bound by the ancient law and uphold the rites of our ancestors?”

“Aye, Kablis,” Thenar hissed down at him. “Ye shall be having yer gathering, and ye shall be bound by its oaths. I be giving ye three days. With all yer new magic, that should be sufficient, should it not?” Thenar turned his back on the group and exited from the back of the dais as Machai was marched off to the dungeons.

Kablis sighed in frustration, hoping he had not just severed a lifelong friendship with his clan leader. He wasn’t even sure they could accomplish a gathering, never mind win them over, but he would need Machai to pull it off.

* * *

Kablis sat at a large table, along with those who had accompanied him to the hall for the confrontation with Thenar, as well as the six of his men who had been captured on their attempt to enter FireFalls. Thenar had released them from the dungeons after granting Kablis his request to hold a gathering, but Machai still remained in a cell deep within the mountain.

“If we be wanting to have the gathering, we be needing Machai and more time. Do any of ye be having any ideas?” Kablis’s concern was apparent in his creased forehead and constant fidgeting, but none of the dwarves seemed to know how to solve the problems Kablis raised. He glanced around the table at them, hoping someone would be able to think of a way to get Machai released. “Aye, we be facing a mountain of trouble, boys.”

“I be having an idea,” Morgo said. Everyone turned to him expectantly and waited for him to share his thoughts. “Let us be going to the other clans. Perhaps there be a more reasonable dwarf to be hearing our plea than Thenar.” A few of the men laughed softly, but Kablis nodded thoughtfully.

“Ye may be onto something. We cannot be seeking an army from other clans against Thenar’s wishes, but we will need to be traveling to other clans to be raising a gathering. It may be that we can be recruiting a bit as we go.” Kablis turned to Gerbim. “It willn’t be solving our problems, but it may be helping at least. Gerbim, can ye be finding old Agrik? We need to be planning how to be finding our gathering members.”

“Aye, he should be easy to find.” Gerbim rose from the table and left the room. The others sat in silence, pondering the difficulty of their task. Gerbim returned surprisingly quickly followed by a dwarf in patchwork leather clothes. Agrik was an ancient-looking dwarf, with skin more wrinkled and gray than Thenar’s. He shuffled in behind Gerbim and took a seat at the table across from Kablis.

“Ye be summoning me for a purpose, but ye should be knowing I do not like being disturbed.”

“Aye, Agrik, I be knowing. Ye be the wisest dwarf I be knowing, and we be needing yer aid.” Kablis spoke with great respect in his tone. “We be intending to be raising a gathering, and I be needing yer expertise with the codes.”

“Aye.” Agrik’s voice was slow and gravelly, as though his long life had worn away any sense of urgency. “Ye be needing me expertise indeed.”

“Can ye be telling us what ye be knowing of the process? We cannot be failing in our attempt, and ye be knowing more than any dwarf in this clan about the gathering.” Kablis’s words were heartfelt, even in their flattery.

“Aye. If ye be sure a gathering be necessary, I can be telling ye what ye be needing. It willn’t be an easy task, though.”

“Aye, I be assuring ye, it be necessary. And we be prepared to be doing what be needed,” Kablis said.

“The gathering be an ancient tradition.” Agrik settled more comfortably into his seat, and his speech became more animated as he continued. “In the Dwarven Realm, before FireFalls or any other clan be existing, there be only one clan of dwarves. There be no clan leaders then.” Everyone listened intently to the old dwarf’s words, though all had heard the tale at the feet of their elders as children. “When the clan be needing a decision, and the minds be unsettled among the wisest of dwarves, a gathering be called. It be consisting of the nine eldest dwarves in the clan, and they be the ones who be deciding the fate of the matter.

“When the great freeze be coming over the mountains of the north, and the air be so chilled that it be death to be breathing it in, the clan be calling the last gathering of the unified age. The eldest nine be meeting in the depths of the old mountain home, eyeing the flames of the fire that be keeping their blood from freezing, and they be arguing for seven days. The more they be arguing, the more the ice be building up outside, until every entrance be sealed in by the coldest ice any dwarf ever be feeling. The clan be trapped inside, and the gathering be a failure.” Kablis summoned a mug of mead from a nearby tray and placed it before Agrik. He returned to his seat without a word of interruption. The old dwarf nodded gratefully and took a long draught before continuing his story. “They be finding no means of agreement on how to be saving the clan. The fighting be getting worse, and they be nearly coming to true blows. Soon the clan be breaking into factions. Some men be siding with one elder, and others be siding with others, until the clan be fractured into nine rivaling groups.

“The ice be so thick that no one could be going out hunting, and soon there be too little food for the masses. Great famine be devastating the dwarves, and nearly a third be dying before the ice be starting to thaw. By the time the sunlight be piercing through and granting the dwarves access to the outside world, the one clan be too far severed to be reconciling. The nine elders be leaving the old mountain, and nine clans be forming with them. Before the clans, with their new leaders, could be getting off the slopes of the old home, a Seer be stopping them on the frozen path. She be crying out a prophecy, and her words be echoing off the snowy cliffs.

“
Sundered stream of ancient ties, when nine seeds sever strength of one. Fear divided, anger torn, defeated by the ice and stone. If gather ye beyond the gate, beware the breaking of the line. The dwarven fall be imminent, if ye fail to gather each of nine.

“To this day, no dwarf be willing to be risking the fall of the realm. If ye be wanting a gathering, ye need to be gathering the descendants of the nine.”

“Aye Agrik, ye be telling the story of the nine clans better than any dwarf I ever be hearing.” Kablis refilled the old man’s mug as he spoke. “But that willn’t be helping me to be finding the descendants. Can ye be telling me how to be knowing who they be?”

“Aye. Ye be needing a Chronicleer.” Agrik sipped his second mug of mead slowly.

“A what now?” Lers asked, leaning forward in his seat.

“A Chronicleer.” Agrik grinned slyly in Lers’s direction. “Ye willn’t be knowing one, lad.” Agrik turned his attention back to Kablis. “There be no Chronicleers here in FireFalls, but ye should be asking Machai where one be.”

Before Kablis could object that Machai was currently imprisoned in the dungeons, Agrik tipped his old bones from his chair and shuffled out of the room. Kablis stared after him with his jaw slack and frustration resurfacing. After a moment, he threw his hands up in the air and grumbled.

“If we can be sneaking into the mountain, we might as well be sneaking down to the bottom of it.”

11 — The Descendants

Kablis pressed his back against the wall and waited for the two guards to round the corner ahead of him. He had managed to reach the lowest level of the mountain without incident, but he couldn’t use the traveling spell to locate Machai because he had no idea which cell they were holding him in. Once he found the correct cell, he would have to find a way to speak with him without drawing the attention of the dungeon guards. He had passed nearly a dozen cells, all of which were empty. It was rare for the dwarves to have any prisoners, as few outsiders knew where the clan was, and everyone in the mountain worked toward the interest of the clan rather than against it.

Kablis moved slowly and deliberately, trailing behind the guards in silence at a far enough distance to remain unnoticed but close enough not to risk another guard coming up behind him. Just before he rounded the corner, Kablis heard Machai call out, “Can ye be bringing me a book at least?” One of the guards grunted and mumbled something, eliciting a loud laugh from the other guard. Their footsteps continued down the corridor, and Kablis eased his head around the corner. A small torch was burning outside one door in a long line of cells. Kablis assumed it was the only occupied chamber, and he waited until the guards were a good distance away before approaching it. The cell doors stood recessed into the wall far enough that Kablis could stand against the bars without being visible from down the passage. He hoped no one else would be coming along before he finished speaking to Machai.

“Ye be catching up on yer reading?” Kablis kept his voice low, but Machai glanced over at him through the bars with a smile.

“Aye, if ye mean me reading the passage of time in the cracks of these stone walls. What be yer plan for the gathering?” Machai wasted no time in seeking information about the progress toward recruiting the troops they had come for.

“We be needing a Chronicleer. Old Agrik be saying to be asking ye where one be.”

“Aye.” Machai nodded in thought. “I be knowing one, but I cannot be telling ye where he be. We must be speaking with Osric.”

“That be difficult with ye in there. Do ye know where they be keeping yer wand and axe?”

“Aye.” Machai grinned. “I be keeping ’em in me chambers.”

“What?” Kablis didn’t understand how that could be.

“I be knowing that Thenar would likely be overreacting. I be making sure I had me lucky charm on me.” Machai pulled a small stone from a pouch on his belt, and it glowed slightly in his cupped palm. “It be keeping the spells on the cell from blocking me magic. I be using the traveling spell to be retrieving me things as soon as they be leaving me here alone. It be making no sense to be caught outside of me cell, since then Thenar would be having proof of me treason, so I be sitting here since. Ye be taking longer than I be hoping.”

Kablis shook his head in disbelief and grinned. “Well, let us be grabbing yer gear and be going. We be having a few trips to be making.” Both dwarves whispered the spell and then appeared standing in Machai’s chambers. Machai gathered his weapons, his wand, and his traveling pack, and the two hurried down the corridor to Kablis’s rooms to meet up with the others.

Machai drew his wand and established the link to contact Osric as Kablis explained the events in the dungeon to the others. A diaphanous image of Osric appeared in a display of light above the tip of Machai’s wand, and the walls of the Aranthian barracks could be seen in the background behind him.

“How are things going there, Machai? Have you had any trouble convincing the dwarves to join with us?” Osric’s optimism was apparent in his tone, though the dark circles under his eyes and the wrinkles in his brow showed how hard the past year had been on him.

“Aye, there be trouble anywhere I be going, but I willn’t be letting ye down. We need to be speaking with Ero. Can ye be telling me how to be finding him?”

“Ero? What do you need with the eagles?” Osric asked, both surprised and concerned by the unexpected request.

“We be needing a Chronicleer, and I be hoping that Ero will be wanting to help ye again.”

“I don’t think the eagles will be willing to aid us in battle, but Ero may help us if it is his gift you are in need of. You will find him in the Caves of D’pareth, near the eastern coast. I am sure if you can get close to the nesting grounds, Ero will find you.” Osric held his hand up for them to wait. “I’ve got a better idea. I’ll summon a dragon for you and have it take you to the eagles—we don’t want you to attempt traveling that far if you’ve never been there.”

“Aye, we cannot be traveling that far anyway. We be getting tired from the extensive use of magic here.”

“What have you been doing?” Osric asked.

“It be a long story, but I can be telling ye about it when I be returning with the troops I be promising ye.”

“I look forward to hearing about it. I will have Greyback to you soon. Be careful, Machai.” Osric severed the link between wands and the image from Stanton disappeared. Machai turned to the others and nodded, a somber greeting after his time in the dungeon cell.

“Kablis and I be taking a short trip. I need ye to be learning what ye can about who be willing to aid us and who be determined to thwart us. When we be returning, ye must be ready to be leaving yer home if ye be with us. I cannot be telling when ye may be returning.” Machai needed each dwarf to understand the stakes of joining the Aranthians by fighting with him. Thenar was unlikely to view their actions as anything other than treason, regardless of what the gathering may determine as lawful. Each man nodded without hesitation, and Machai hurried out the door with Kablis to the entrance of his mountain home. They moved swiftly and silently, avoiding others in the halls in hopes that Machai’s absence would go unnoticed long enough for their allies to scatter and avoid being accused of breaking him out.

The dragon platform was located down the trail, not too far from the great doors that separated their clan from the rest of Archana. By the time Machai and Kablis arrived, Greyback was waiting patiently on the large stone platform.

“Aye, ye be as lovely as ever. Have ye fared well since we be seeing ye last?” Machai greeted the familiar dragon warmly, rubbing his small fist on her scaled snout.

“I have been doing well, and you are as fierce as ever.” Greyback nuzzled the hand affectionately. “Are you sure you wish to go to see the eagles? My first visit there didn’t go very well.”

“Aye,” Machai responded. “But this time ye will have me and me blade on yer back. If any wee eagles be seeking to attack ye, I will be having eagle stew for me supper.”

Greyback grinned in a fierce display of sharp teeth, and she lowered her wing to allow the dwarves to climb onto her back. Kablis checked the gear on her back, making sure the harnesses were well secured for their flight, and they lashed their packs behind the small seats before tightening the harnesses over their shoulders and letting Greyback know they were ready.